


These Cold Flames

by PastelBlueDahlia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Sex, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, New Year's Smut, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13237917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBlueDahlia/pseuds/PastelBlueDahlia
Summary: He is so good to Viktor. So good that he seems to know even without words what he wants, and Viktor loves all these wordless conversations he can have with Yuuri when everyone else is too impatient and too loud to listen to him, and he squeezes Viktor‘s waist tight like he wants to reassure him it‘s okay before he sinks down to his knees and starts unbuckling Viktor‘s belt.There‘s something hard and wild today in Yuuri‘s eyes, and Viktor can‘t say he doesn‘t like it.- - -Viktor and Yuuri discover the joy of spanking





	These Cold Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Viktuuri just needed to end the year with a literal bang *fingerguns*

 

 

 

It happens in Chris‘ hotel room the first time because he is drunk and wants his selfie stick for some reason, and Viktor as his best friend and even drunker than him wanted to retrieve it for him immediately. That‘s how he finds himself staggering with Yuuri on his arm up to his hotel room because Yuuri is pliant and nice and drunk like that now, and he can‘t stop loving the feeling of his warm, hard arm sagged against his chest, and _god_ it does things to him he can‘t even articulate in words or sounds.  
  
Maybe moans or sighs but that would take the artistry out of it, the sheer poetry that is Yuuri‘s body heat and the continuous black line his body draws in that crisp suit. Maybe colors would convey it better.

Yuuri makes Viktor feel dark red.  
  
Searing and burning, like in those American movies where the sun distorts the air above the concrete that it looks like a worm hole, a hiccup in time and a molecular jumble, and Viktor is sure that if he would put his finger into it he would vanish into another dimension.  
  
Viktor chuckles at the thought that he would vanish into Yuuri and become a part of him permanently.  
  
He must be _really_ drunk.  
  
Viktor leans his back against the cool wood of the hotel room door, closes his eyes and feels the pull of something invisible on his eyelids and he smiles, but closing his eyes while drunk was not his best idea because the smooth material of his suit makes him slip easily on the wood, and with a small noise of surprise his shoulder hits the door frame. His knees feel weak.  
  
With furrowed brows he looks at the brown carpet and the yellowness of the light makes everything fuzzy like a worn out sweater. Yuuri steps forward and wraps his arms around Viktor.  
  
He smiles harder and hugs him back and closes his heavy, heavy eyes and feels the smooth fabric of Yuuri‘s suit on his lips and chin, loves the feeling of Yuuri‘s overheated body on his own, the warmth wrapping him up like he's sinking into a bath. He loves it, but what he doesn‘t love is that despite Yuuri being so drunk already he hasn‘t taken off his clothes yet, all these damn buttons that keep him from seeing Yuuri‘s pale skin still doing their job, his necktie still properly, boringly around his neck like it should be instead of it being wrapped around Yuuri‘s head or at least wrapped around Viktor‘s wrists.  
  
Viktor can‘t press his lips against Yuuri‘s neck like he so wants to, and his body just won‘t listen to him and is way too sluggish to go through with it and loosen his necktie and open some buttons even though his mind is screaming at him to do something.  
  
So he sags with his whole weight against the door behind him, only held upright by Yuuri in front of him who fits so snugly into his arms and body, and _oh._  
  
Viktor apparently _did_ open a few of his own buttons back then at least. Maybe in the elevator?  
  
Yuuri presses his lips against the crook of his neck, heated skin on skin instead of a kiss. And he breathes in deep, in a way Viktor can feel his chest expanding into his own, feels it take his own breath away and god. He would die giving everything to Yuuri if he could.  
  
Yuuri breathes out, his feverish hand in the nape of Viktor's neck. He can‘t help but make a whimpering sound in the back of his throat and scrunch his face up as he runs his hand through Viktor‘s hair at the back of his head, slowly like he‘s admiring it, shoulders pulled up and squishing Yuuri‘s face between his shoulder and head.  
  
Yuuri laughs breathlessly and hoarse into his ear.  
  
The noise sounds way too loud in the empty hallway. The walls and carpet seem to shallow up every sound except for the soft rustling of clothes that break the static silence.  
  
Something about the way Yuuri presses against him makes him feel good, like it's already enough to just be pressed close like that even without kissing. For now.  
  
Viktor laughs quietly as he feels Yuuri‘s hand slipping into his back pocket and hooks his chin over Yuuri‘s shoulder, pressing him so close he‘s sure he can feel Yuuri‘s heartbeat. He slips the key card into the lock, hard, and Viktor fears it will bend under the force as he feels a flash of disappointment when he realizes that Yuuri didn't want to feel him up.  
  
The door opens and Yuuri pushes Viktor into the dark room with an unreadable expression. He walks backwards, eyes on Yuuri as the light gets shut out with a click of the door. Viktor feels his face heating up from all these awful layers of clothing and because Yuuri sometimes makes him feel just like that, like he‘s suffocating because he can‘t show him how much he loves him, will never be able to convey it, and it‘s paradox how he knows he needs those hands on him but also knows just how unbearable the heat of them will be on his skin.  
  
He feels how open his own face is, eyebrows furrowed with want, the alcohol making him so lightheaded he can‘t bring up the energy to mask anything, and what's best about that is that Yuuri is just like him.  
  
His blood is pounding, rushing, tumbling and he can‘t stop staring at the dark figure of Yuuri, his face and dress shirt a stark contrast to the dark background. He's a sleek, gorgeous thing with big eyes.  
  
Viktor feels dark blue. An ocean at night, something rich and dark, subtly moving and shivering with a longing in his marrow he can feel in every breath he takes.  
  
He turns around and squints in the dark of the room, searching for the selfie stick. Outside a firework goes off and dips the room into a temporary flash of yellow. There must be a window open somewhere because he can hear the soft, burning fizz of dying fireworks. Viktor shivers.  
  
He picks the selfie stick up from Chris‘ nightstand, but he turns around too fast for his brain to catch up and almost falls backwards on the bed.  
  
„I got it, we should...“ Viktor loses his words somewhere down his throat as he looks at Yuuri, and _oh this is bad._  
  
Yuuri steps closer and wraps his hot hands around his waist. Viktor feels a pull in his lower stomach, a soft hot pounding that almost overshadows the pounding of his heart. His mouth opens, just like his hand. The stick falls to the floor and probably rolls under the bed, and Viktor wants that too.  
  
He wants to vanish with Yuuri, wants the others to wonder where they are, wants to escape responsibilities and the too bright light and loudness he enjoyed a few minutes ago but now hates with a force that surprises himself, and he wants to vanish with Yuuri into their own rabbit hole where only they exist.  
  
Alice had Wonderland, and Viktor has the vastness of Yuuri to explore and claim and discover and love.  
  
There won‘t be enough room for the two of them under the bed, probably not even to make out, but in the absolute blackness of that tiny space they will be forced to share their breath and be so unbearably close it will be like a greenhouse, hot and humid and under the warm rays of Yuuri‘s love Viktor will thrive and grow. He won‘t be able to see Yuuri, and because of that he‘ll be able to look into the tiny spaces between his molecules and ions and Yuuri will be Yuuri and he won‘t be him, and then Viktor can finally open him up and be opened up in return in that terrible way that would leave him scraped raw and crying if they did it in bright light and not drunk and not so painfully, terribly, utterly aware and conscious of every action and move and change of tone.  
  
For the first time Viktor feels like he could tell Yuuri about all these achingly filthy selfish desires he can only water down and translate into his skating. And he _has_ to water them down because he knows that Yuuri would understand this wordless form of communication and knows the look on his face if he skated back into the arms of his lover, knows the mask he would wear that would shatter his heart because he‘s just too much.  
  
But now he feels like it would be okay, not only because of the alcohol but because Yuuri‘s eyes have the same kind of dark gleam to them not even the fireworks can brighten, and he‘s certain he would be able to find the same gleam in his own eyes.  
  
The kiss they share in the hotel room borders on painful.  
  
Viktor doesn‘t know who starts and who reciprocates, and it doesn‘t matter because there‘s so much of Yuuri inside him already, a soft velvety wet tongue that makes the throbbing stronger. He whimpers when Yuuri bites his lip and clings to Yuuri‘s suit jacket until his hand goes numb. Their teeth clack together like an uncoordinated orchestra.  
  
Yuuri licks into his mouth like it‘s the very first and the last time he gets to do this. Viktor‘s heart burns with a cold flame, demanding to be put out.  
  
His eyes and tongue grow heavier and heavier, and all he wants to do is present his mouth for fucking because he‘s so drunk and tired yet still wants Yuuri in him. He is _so good_ to Viktor. So good that he seems to know even without words what he wants, and Viktor loves all these wordless conversations he can have with Yuuri when everyone else is too impatient and too loud to listen to him, and he squeezes Viktor‘s waist tight like he wants to reassure him it‘s okay before he sinks down to his knees and starts unbuckling Viktor‘s belt.  
  
He lets out a deep sigh, and for a second he thinks he can see a white cloud of breath in front of his face.  
  
Viktor lets his head drop forward, his brain trailing behind him, lagging like a game and too damn fuzzy. He needs a second to fully concentrate on Yuuri, and he braces himself on Yuuri‘s shoulders. On these firm, gorgeous shoulders.  
  
„Yuuri… we need...“ The words clog up in his throat like blood, and the hand he rose from Yuuri‘s shoulder falls back down on it in an attempt to not topple over and crash to the ground. Is it even possible to get more drunk? Or is that the effect Yuuri has on him?  
  
„Shh, I‘ll make it quick,“ he promises, and Viktor feels like he should pout or be offended that he‘s so sure to make Viktor come quickly but no words are coming out of his mouth and then there‘s breath on his boxer briefs, and _god_ , was his breath always this cold?  
  
He looks down and sees surprisingly almost nothing thanks to black underwear. Yuuri slowly brings his gorgeous, gorgeous hands up his hips, each fingertip a torturous new point of contact that almost makes him whimper at how delicate Yuuri holds him in place, almost like someone would a piece of art, a masterpiece of inestimable value.  
  
When his eyes meet Yuuri‘s, they look centuries old in the dark of the hotel room. It feels like something important, something groundbreaking is happening here, but when doesn‘t something groundbreaking and amazing happen when Yuuri is around?  
  
Then Yuuri finally, _finally_ hooks his fingers between heated, goosebumpy skin and fabric to pull his boxer briefs down. His cheeks clench involuntary because Yuuri does it so suddenly with an almost clinical quickness that lost all its teasing and flirting and went straight to the practical part of shedding Viktor‘s clothes.  
  
Something about the way Yuuri seems so untouched and calm, so uncaring and unbothered like he doesn‘t even look at Viktor that way makes something hot and liquid spark in his veins. He bites down on his lip.  
  
Yuuri‘s eyes look darker than Viktor has ever seen before as his hands slide under Viktor‘s suit jacket. He understands and throws the jacket on the pillow at the end of the bed while Yuuri shrugs out of his own quickly.  
  
There‘s something hard and wild today in Yuuri‘s eyes, in the line of his mouth and the way he holds his head.  
  
Viktor can‘t say he doesn‘t like it.  
  
A firework explodes behind him, prickles on his back and leaves its glitter in Yuuri‘s eyes.

„Wow,“ Viktor says as he looks down on himself with wide eyes, only now noticing his already half hard dick. He briefly wonders how and when did this happen but scolds himself harshly a second later. Yuuri is down on his knees for him and popping a boner is only a natural reflex. In fact, it‘s so natural that he would be more than worried if he _didn‘t_ pop a boner in such a situation.  
  
Yuuri‘s chuckle is a torturous tickle on his cock. He bites so hard down on his lip he tastes sweet, foul blood.  
  
„Very wow indeed,“ he says warmly.  
  
His teeth are white the way snow is in the dark.  
  
Viktor feels the corners of his mouth getting pulled up like from magic, and he wonders what kind of sorcery this is until Yuuri takes his cock into both hands gently like it‘s something to be savored and worshiped, and there are deep lines on his forehead the next firework accentuates, throwing even a shadow unlike usually as if someone dipped his face into soot and dusted only the excess off.  
  
Yuuri holds it against his soft, burning cheek and Viktor jerks at the touch and starts laughing as he looks down again. His dick looks like a really long, white cheese stick. Or a baguette. The thought is so unbearably funny he tries to muffle his sounds with his hand, and he wants to tell Yuuri about this unflattering but accurate comparison but then Yuuri looks up with curious eyes, big and round like marbles.  
  
There‘s a wet patch of precum on his cheek, glistening in the moon light.  
  
The laughter dies in his throat immediately.  
  
„Condoms,“ he mutters, more to himself than to Yuuri with a hoarse voice.  
  
„We don‘t need one,“ he breathes and grabs Viktor‘s hips again.  
  
„I bet Chris has-“  
  
„I‘m telling you we don‘t need one!“ Yuuri whispers with more determination now.  
  
Just when Viktor tries to wind himself out of Yuuri‘s grasp to search for condoms in Chris nightstand Yuuri‘s hand lands with a loud smack on his ass, too terribly loud in the quiet, dark room. The unsuspected pain makes his body tense and a groan rips from his throat, a hot chord being pulled all the way to his groin, hips thrusting forward reflexively and his cock vanishes into Yuuri‘s open, waiting mouth, _deeper deeper deeper._  
  
„Oh,“ he gasps, throwing his head back so far he can feel the skin on his throat stretching, „Oh fuck Yu - uri,“ he stutters, hands coming down to dig into Yuuri‘s scalp. His head feels feverishly hot under that soft hair, and there‘s sweat building at the nape of his neck.  
  
Then there‘s a popping sound and wet coldness on his dick and with an awful amount of effort he manages to let his head, a terribly heavy thing, fall forward. He‘s overwhelmed with the urge to kiss the smirk off Yuuri‘s lips.  
  
„Did you like that?“ he asks, voice too loud in the darkness of the room.  
  
His brain is playing connect the dots and decides to rather follow pointless sentences and words that make no sense and twist and get lost in endlessness.  
  
The only thing his mind is able to convey is „Huh?“ and he‘s honestly getting frustrated at how his brain knows what to do but his body simply doesn‘t listen.  
  
Yuuri stares at him with wide eyes while a firework bursts across his face again.  
  
Suddenly there‘s a smirk, a curve in his raised eyebrow. His nails dig into Viktor‘s ass, and he opens his mouth reflexively, a sigh escaping his lips.  
  
„Did you like getting spanked?“  
  
Viktor blinks and his hands settle on Yuuri‘s shoulders like he will fall over any second, „I don‘t know,“ he says earnestly. They are also conveniently the only few words he is capable of saying when his tongue feels like a stone.  
  
As soon as these words leave him he notices how they don‘t fit like he wears someone elses shoes. He closes his eyes and staggers „I‘m sorry, I – Try that again,“ he murmurs.  
  
He hears the smack before he feels it. A loud clap, the tensing of muscles, his own surprised gasp, the pain that makes his face scrunch up.  
  
Viktor bites his lip as Yuuri massages his cheeks like a redemption and the sting pricks deliciously.  
  
„Oh _Vitya_ ,“ he sighs, smile so evident in his voice it makes Viktor whimper. He places his hands on Viktor‘s hips again and turns him around, one hand in the sensitive hollow of his knee guiding him to kneel.  
  
„Want more?“ Yuuri rasps into his ear, breath hot and moist. Viktor‘s whole body seems to scream _yes_ , and he leans forward on the bed to give Yuuri better access and presents his ass for everything Yuuri wants to do with it.  
  
„Tell me when to stop,“ he says, moves away with all his feverish heat and smacks his ass cheek hard. Viktor gasps and shifts forward to escape the pain unconsciously. Yuuri pinches his skin between his forefinger and thumb and massages it carefully.  
  
„That good?“ he asks.  
  
„ _Yeah_ ,“ Viktor mewls, „I love it.“  
  
„Good,“ he murmurs against his ass and presses a wet, cold kiss to his burning skin. He must know how unfair he‘s being because Viktor is so terribly weak for praise and nicknames.  
  
„Can you do ten for me Vitya? Will you do that?“ he asks, rough hands kneading his ass cheeks tortuously slow and gentle and so intense it leaves him aching for more. It‘s nothing but coaxing. It‘s the false pretense of gentleness and care before he lets the smack resonate from the walls and leaves him leaking on his best friends bed.  
  
Viktor looks at the sheets and feels something surge through him like electricity, the filthy, guilty feeling of knowing that what he wants and what they do is so utterly, utterly wrong, and knowing how helpless and weak he is when he faces his own desires.  
  
He wants to know where Yuuri learned to talk like that, how he manages to rile him up so fucking much, if he watched pornos or picked it up from other lovers of if it‘s just that natural erotic talent to drive people, and specifically Viktor crazy, but he must have nodded by now repeatedly because suddenly Yuuri sounds so much closer now as he says: „That won‘t do it Viktor, you have to tell me with your words,“ and brings his hand to Viktor‘s face, tilting his head to reach his lips with his thumb like he wants to remind him where words come out.  
  
He can taste Yuuri on his teeth, and his fingers reach his jaw and cheeks and Viktor wants that too. It should be scary how many scary things he wants to do with Yuuri, but it isn‘t. His eyes flutter shut as he sucks hard on Yuuri‘s thumb, trying to convey _yes yes yes._  
  
„Words Vitya,“ he reminds him playfully scolding.  
  
„ _Yes_ god, _fuck_ , do it,“ Viktor whines and then stops, „I promise to be good, _please_ daddy I need-“  
  
There‘s a sharp tug on his hair and his moan sounds similar to the high-pitched fireworks that rush into the air. Yuuri presses his hard, clothed cock against Viktor‘s hole, _pressing pressing pressing_ like he wants to enter him just like this, and Viktor can‘t help but grin.  
  
„You really are a genius when it comes to surprising me,“ Yuuri says, and Viktor‘s smile widens. That simple word managed to crack his facade and let the real, the soft and nervous Yuuri shimmer through, who is always so unsure and whose hands sweat and shake whenever Viktor cries or gasps of pain. There‘s this soft panting in his voice, a tremble that betrays him like the soft warmth of a candle you thought you had doused already.  
  
„Always surprising me,“ Yuuri murmurs, the real Yuuri, not even now able to hide his adoration and love for Viktor, voice trembling with emotion. It makes Viktor think again about the cracks in Yuuri he still wants to explore and the Wonderland under the bed.  
  
Yuuri takes a deep breath, and with it he blows out the candle.  
  
„Brace yourself Vitya and count to ten.“  
  
„One,“ he starts. The slap is loud, and he jerks forward and sinks to his forearms. Yuuri quickly pinches and kneads the stinging away.  
  
„Two,“ a high mewl escapes his lips, a filthy awkward thing. Yuuri chuckles behind him warmly, a delicious sound Viktor wants to put into a jar and open whenever it rains.  
  
„Three,“ Viktor isn‘t sure if the throbbing is so strong and numbing because Yuuri spanked him so much harder or because his cheek has been abused several times now. He rubs soothing circles into the reddened, burning skin that remind Viktor of the times he does the same just before a skate but on his knuckles.  
  
„Four,“ a hand finds its way to the sweaty small of Viktor‘s back before Yuuri‘s hand comes rushing down. The sound he makes is breathless and hoarse because the air got knocked out of his lungs, and Yuuri mildly scolds him with „Try to keep your voice down, this isn‘t our hotel room,“ which again reminds him what he‘s doing in his best friends room, his best friends bed. He shuts his eyes and clenches the sheets between his fists, determined to keep quiet this time.  
  
„Five,“ he says and immediately bites down into the sheets, eyes scrunching shut as Yuuri spanks him so hard he jerks forward on reflex and _oh_. He feels his cock brushing against the edge of the bed. Viktor slides closer on his knees until his cock is trapped between his belly and the sheets, throwing all caution and guilt to the wind because he just needs this right now.  
  
„We're halfway there,“ Yuuri says reassuringly and sinks down to pepper his ass with light kisses while he kneads the skin he just marked red. It prickles and stings and throbs and he can‘t help but wriggle in the tight grasp of Yuuri‘s now so much colder feeling hands, and it feels numbingly good. Yuuri‘s spreading his cheeks before he knows it, hovering over his hole for a second before sinking down and sucking and licking in a way Viktor is sure could make him come as his eyes roll back into his head.  
  
„ _Mmhhn_ ,“ he whines high-pitched, still biting down dutifully onto the sheets like a good boy until his jaw hurts from exertion. „Shhh, I‘m right here,“ Yuuri soothes him and runs a hand down his back which makes Viktor twitch like his nerves are on fire. There‘s sweat beading on his forehead, his back and the back of his thighs, and everything is _too much._  
  
He still wants more.  
  
„Six,“ he says and lets the wet sheet drop from his mouth. His back arches as Yuuri‘s hand sinks down again, and the noise he makes sounds so throaty and breathless it‘s almost like he breathed out his life. He jerks forward, and that only doubles the pleasure because his cock is rubbing on the now damp sheets. He breathes out a laugh that sounds to his own ears like he‘s under water and feels tears stinging in his eyes. His ass feels so hot and the throbbing lasts so long it feels like his ass is glowing.  
  
„Seven,“ he‘s screaming now, mouth hanging open and chest heaving. Yuuri kneads his ass again, blowing and kissing and even though it‘s supposed to be soothing it only adds to the pleasure. His hips don‘t stop for even a second, the bright flare of pleasure needed desperately to not beg Yuuri to stop.  
  
„Eight,“ he groans with gritted teeth. Yuuri sinks his teeth into the plump flesh of Viktor‘s ass, and he screams again and fists the sheets until his bones crack and his thighs shiver, tears and sweat running down his face. Yuuri bites and sucks like he wants to mark him even more, like the bright red imprints of Yuuri‘s hand on his ass are just not enough, like he wants to break him for anyone else.  
  
_Good_ , Viktor thinks in his daze.  
  
„Nine,“ he says and sobs along with it, face half buried in the sheets. He can taste the saltiness of his own tears and sweat, and it feels like there will never be enough air in his lungs anymore, and he pants and cries and he‘s in pain and it‘s _good._  
  
„The last one, are you ready?“ Yuuri asks, and Viktor hums.  
  
„Ten,“ Everything's happening too fast: Yuuri grabs Viktor‘s shoulder and pulls him backwards while holding his cock with a hard hand like he wants to keep him from coming, and then he starts jerking him off so fast and with such a tight grip it almost hurts Viktor, just to spank him one last, final time so hard Viktor is practically slammed into Yuuri‘s waiting fist that holds his cock.  
  
His lungs give out, and for a second when he looks outside it seems like the skyscrapers caught fire because the bright red and yellow an orange fireworks burst on the night sky and they get reflected in the windows, and their bursting sounds like the pitter-patter of water on a tin roof and Viktor can practically taste the smoke on his tongue.  
  
Viktor comes on the floor so hard it feels like lifetimes before he‘s finding back into his own skin.  
  
The fireworks are so bright they seem to burn holes into the sky, and Viktor has a bright yellow speck of firework imprinted on his eyelid that even stays when he looks into the smiling face of Yuuri.  
  
„ _Happy New Year_ ,“ Yuuri whispers before pressing a tender kiss to his salty lips that makes him suffer equally as bad as the spanking.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ❤❤❤
> 
> My tumblr is www.its-peach-bleach.tumblr.com


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